


Firelight

by likethenight



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Families of Choice, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, If You Squint - Freeform, Winter, Winter Solstice, very slight Glorfindel/Erestor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:08:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28088268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likethenight/pseuds/likethenight
Summary: Glorfindel, in the Hall of Fire close to Midwinter, thinks this might possibly be his favourite time of the year in Imladris.Treat-fic for Tolkien Secret Santa 2020's Advent Calendar, day 15: firelight!
Comments: 12
Kudos: 14
Collections: Tolkien Secret Santa 2020 ADVENT CALENDAR





	Firelight

It is a cold, dark night close to Midwinter, and by some unspoken consensus most of the residents of the Last Homely House have gathered in the Hall of Fire. They sit in small groups here and there, all within the reach of the heat from the great fire, talking among themselves; Lindir and some of his friends are singing softly, while the twins and Arwen are curled together on one of the sofas, playing cards and laying bets against each other for nominal amounts, a flagon of wine here, a tankard of ale there. Elrond and Erestor are talking quietly about the latest messages from Lothlórien, and Glorfindel is reclining on a thick rug on the floor, watching them all with a distant smile upon his face. For a long time he avoided this room, wary of the memories the fire might provoke in him, but when he grew a little more sure of himself and of the friendships he had built here, he found himself venturing in when he knew he would not be alone, when he knew Elrond or Erestor or Lindir would be here. Sometimes he came in here with the twins to drink and tell tall tales, and sometimes he would sit with Arwen and compare notes on poetry or give her his opinion on one historical event or another - or exchange the latest gossip, if there happened to be anything worth gossiping about. And gradually he became more comfortable, and his fears receded, and when he looked at the fire it was just a fire and he did not see the echoes of his own end in the flames.

And so this evening he is feeling particularly well-disposed towards the world. There is a goblet of wine close to his hand, a plate of bread and cheese and nuts in case he feels like eating, and he is surrounded by all of those he holds dearest in the world, in this his second life. The fire is roaring, its flickering light casting shadows around the room, lighting and shading the faces of his family; the hall is already decorated for the midwinter festival, evergreen branches and garlands draped between the pillars, candles burning everywhere. Glorfindel thinks, at this precise moment, that Midwinter might be his favourite time of the year here in the Valley of the Bruinen; but then again, in the spring he thinks that the spring is his favourite time, and a few months later it is Midsummer, and so on and so forth. He loves it here all year round, if he is honest and truthful. But now, at this moment, reclining in the firelight, he thinks he might just be the happiest he’s been in this life.

He is looking round from one dear face to the other, and smiling to himself, when his gaze alights upon Erestor, who is deep in his discussion with Elrond; but perhaps he feels Glorfindel’s eyes upon him, for he glances up and catches Glorfindel’s eye, and for a moment a smile lights his face, in the flickering firelight, warm and genuine, and Glorfindel smiles too, letting a little of his heart show in his eyes. Not that Erestor does not already know exactly how Glorfindel feels about him, but Glorfindel always thinks it bears repeating.

And then the moment is over and Erestor turns back to his conversation with Elrond, the spell broken, but it does not matter. They know, between them, and Glorfindel feels the warmth inside him at the thought. 

And the firelight flickers and dances, painting shadows on the walls and on all the dear faces around him, and Glorfindel stretches and yawns and smiles. For this brief moment, at least, all is right with the world.


End file.
